


Witch in the Kitchen, A Boy to Boil

by MyApogee



Series: A Place Where I Fit [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 23:25:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11931540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyApogee/pseuds/MyApogee
Summary: Jane has an appetite for immortals and Dave's on the menu.





	1. Let's Talk Business

**Author's Note:**

> Graphic Depictions of Violence tag because Chapter One has suggestions of violence (characters discussing it) and Chapter Three has actual consensual cooking + cutting of Dave's leg. Might write more chapters later, but for now all I got are these three.
> 
> This chapter makes more sense if you've read my previous stuff, specifically "Lady and the Tramp (IT'S A SPAGHETTI JOKE)", though "Karkat The Metaphorical Dragon; Dave The Literal Toothpick" is also alluded to.   
> It's not required, however.

    You find yourself at a very fancy restaurant. Like, sheer curtains, chandeliers, decorative frames gilding pretty much everything. The tablecloth in front of you has a bunch of velvet swirls that are shimmering and beautiful?? You need to spend more time in the human kingdom, you decide. This shit is great. You are also definitely under-dressed, wearing just jeans and a casual shirt (and your sunglasses, of course). But luckily, the gal across from you doesn’t look like she minds.  
    Jane Crocker. Chef, prankster, hot mom, and highly successful CEO of her own company. This incredible, somewhat intimidating, lady messaged you out of the blue and invited you to dinner with her. Just her. Not you and Jade and Karkat or Roxy and Calliope. Just the two of you. And wouldn’t say why. It’s a mystery date, and you were fucking intrigued as hell. And by just the two of you, it really really seems to be just that. There’s no one else but staff in this entire floor of the restaurant. Granted, there is a larger, grander floor below you that is likely filled with people. But here it’s just you, Jane, a mustached man with a violin playing something vaguely Italian (if Earth C even has an Italy), and a couple waiters. It’s definitely a lot more than you were expecting. Jane pushes your menu closer to you.  
    “Please, do order something rare and exciting,” she says. “I won’t have you ordering a simple plate of spaghetti or, heaven forbid, begging Catherine for a hamburger.”  
    “Who’s Catherine?”  
    “Our waitress, dear, do keep up,” Jane says.  
    “Oh, okay, mam.” The mam slips out unintentionally and you kinda gape at Jane. You’re a millisecond away from shamefully trying to take back what you said, but she looks… Well, she’s definitely got a bit more red in her cheeks than she did a moment ago, and her smile is ...overpowering. She looks amused and enamored and fuck maybe even aroused and it’s a lot and it stuns you into silence. At least until Cat comes around to take your order. She talks a bit about the restaurant and specials and drinks and stuff, which gives you time to glance over the menu kind of awkwardly. It’s starting to get to you, how out of place you feel here. Because at first at least you were here with Jane, but getting that look from her, seeing the red jewelry around her neck and fancy pencil skirt on her waist, and hearing her discuss food stuffs with the waitress… it’s all a reminder of how much of a big shot she is. She has an air of superiority and it’s not really a thing she’s trying to hold over you or whatever it’s just the impressive person she is shining through.  
    “Dave, you will order something, yes? Or do I have to do it for you?” Jane asks.  
    “Uh… lobster,” you decide on the spot based on what happens to be in front of you. “Big one.”  
    Jane orders a matching wine and tells the waitress one or two other things to pass on to the chef. Catherine nods her head and absconds.  
    “Not the most exotic choice, but I am satisfied nonetheless,” Jane says. “Lobster will make for a worthy meal for you. And that’s what today is all about, isn’t it? Rather worthy meals.”  
    “Is that what it’s about?” you ask. “You haven’t really said.”  
    “I suppose I haven’t,” she replies. “I’m afraid I won’t be very quick to elaborate either. In time, you’ll better understand why I invited you to this dinner. But the subject I wish to broach is quite an unusual one, and I need to remain rather delicate in getting there.”  
    You don’t know what to say. You want to make a joke, an offhanded remark about what she could possibly be thinking about. But nothing’s coming to mind. Even if it did, you don’t want to, like, offend her? By assuming something like crude or shit when she’s being so fucking refined?  
    “To begin, I will get one thing out of the way,” Jane interrupts your train of thought. “The entire meal, while still bound to be enjoyable, would be entirely to waste and our discussion fruitless if I do not clear away the foremost obstacle. It is my understanding that the relationship you share with Jade and Karkat is open in several areas. As in, that while you are quite in love with one another, you are each willing to pursue further romantic or sexual endeavors with third parties. Am I correct?”  
    “Uh yup.” That narrows things down a little bit but not a lot. Jane’s cheeks still have a bit of red to them and you can feel it crawling into your own. Cat comes back with wine, and Jane takes it and pours it out. You accept your glass and try a sip. Not your go-to drink but it’s okay? Maybe you’ll just save the rest for the lobster though…  
    “I met with Jade a few nights ago for a few drinks,” Jane says. “It was a splendid evening, to be sure. I always get so cautious around Roxy when it comes to alcohol but I could really cut loose with Jade. And in our drunken stupor she did share a story with me. One of an interesting meal she had only the week before. A rare cuisine indeed, certainly nothing I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing. But perhaps you’ve caught on to my drift by now?”  
    You shake your head. What did you guys eat last week? Like… pizza and stuff? Jane’s probably talking about some troll thing since she’s always in the human kingdom.  
    “It was you, Dave Strider,” she says. “The meal was you.”  
    Oh. Oh, Jane is talking about the day you spent being swallowed whole several times, first by Karkat and then also by Jade. Apparently, Jade spilled the beans on that one. It’s not like you guys promised to keep it secret or anything, it’s not exactly a shameful thing? Well, maybe a little.     But. It’s just. It’s weird to talk about it with other people, obviously.  
    “You are being surprisingly quiet, Dave,” Jane says. “I was under the impression you had a looser tongue.”  
    “Sorry, mam.” Fuck fuck fuck.  
    “Oh, no, by all means.” Jane looks like she is thoroughly enjoying herself. “Clearly, the center point of this discussion is not easy to verbalize. I understand if you find yourself lacking the right words, I’m merely surprised you’ve been rendered speechless so early on. Nonetheless, it may make it a bit simpler on me if I don’t have a voice of dissension to contend with.”  
    You nod dumbly and take another sip of wine. Yeah it’s still not great.  
    “Might I assume that during your escapades, the subject of immortality was mentioned?”  
    “Because I was being eaten alive… and Karkat was worried I’d die in… his… stomach…?” you say. “Yeah. Yeah it was mentioned.”  
    “And of course it was not a very high concern as you are godtier,” Jane continues. “Being devoured by a lover is hardly a just or heroic death after all.” You nod dumbly again. “In regards to myself, there would be even less risk, thanks to my power over life itself. I can only revive a person fully from a godtier death just the once, but in dying a rather mundane death it’s hardly a problem at all. If someone were, for instance, in the process of dying, I would be well situated to keep them alive throughout the duration of the experience. And then let their own normal godtier powers do the rest at the conclusion of the…”  
    She trails off and to be honest the entire thing kind of went over your head. It sounded like a lot of hypotheticals but also really serious? It sounded like some kind of torture thing, maybe?? Does she want to kill someone slowly? Is that someone… you???  
Jane stares off into the distance. You look at her with obvious concern but she’s completely oblivious. You make an over the top gesture at trying to find whatever she’s looking at, but you don’t see anything and also she still doesn’t notice. Eventually you do open your mouth to say something but she beats you to it.  
    “When I was being manipulated by the Condesce… my it seems like so long ago now doesn’t it?” Jane says, still looking off into the distance. Like she’s reminiscing. “She made me act downright horrible. But at the core of it, it was as if my inhibitions were freed. I was let lose to roam and give in to my darkest desires without any respect towards consequences. As a result, I was particularly rude to Jake. The things I said to him, what I’d suggested… well, they were far from polite. Do you know the worst part of it, though? It’s that there was something deeper, darker, than anything I had said to him. Something that, even as the merciless maiden I was, I still could not bring myself to say aloud. It has, ironically, been eating me alive ever since.”  
    You are sitting there, rightfully terrified, as the food arrives. Jane kindly thanks your waitress and starts cutting into some fancy steak thing she got. Also, you are really familiar with irony and consider yourself pretty great at all things ironic and you absolutely fail to see what irony she could be talking about? She takes a bite of her steak and prompts you (finally turning to look at you again) to dig into your lobster. You pick up the snappy thing (you do not eat lobster at fancy restaurants, okay?) and try to break open a claw. You do not do well. With a sigh, Jane does it for you.  
    “Thanks, mam.” You smack yourself in the forehead this time.  
    “That has to be intentional by now,” Jane says with a chuckle.  
    “It really isn’t.”  
    “Oh, a complete sentence!” she mocks. “What a treat. I was beginning to think you had forgotten what those were.”  
    “What was the thing you couldn’t say to Jake?” The words leave you slowly and deliberately. Jane stops cutting her steak.  
    “Not much of a sleuth, are you?” She asks. “You are going to make me come out and say it.”  
    “Yeah, I am.”  
    She sighs. “Well, if you insist. Dave Strider, I have invited you here today to make a proposal. From what Jade has told me, you were all rather fond of the sexual consumption the three of you participated in. But of all the members present, you were, perhaps, the most elated of them all.”     She goes back to cutting her steak and takes a pretty big bite. “I would like to partake.”  
    “You… you wanna join us?” you ask. That doesn’t sound so bad.  
    “Not ‘us’, exactly. Just, you.”  
    “You’d… probably need Jade to make me smaller then…”  
    “No. That is also, not the point,” Jane says. She’s looking down at her plate, continually taking bites during pauses. “The areas of my rambles... which were more focused on your immortality and on my... darker desires... were hints at something a little less… whole.” The next cut into her steak is very deliberate.  
    “You want to cut me up… and eat me in pieces?” you ask.  
    “It’s not that it had to be you,” Jane says. “You just seem like the most willing candidate. I could never do such a thing without full consent, naturally. Which is ludicrous in and of itself as no one in their right mind would-”  
    “Yeah ok.”  
    “I- I beg your pardon?”  
    “I wish you’d opened with that instead of building up the suspense,” you tell her. “I was really freaking out over here.”  
    “For good reason, I imagine,” Jane says. She’s looking directly at you now, shaking her silverware-wielding fists at you. “It’s bound to be an extremely painful ordeal! Just because it won’t kill you doesn’t mean it’s exactly fun.”  
    “Eh, it’s chill.”  
    “I’m afraid it really isn’t,” she continues. “I cannot readily except that you have no reservations about the amount of agony you would suffer from such an experience!”  
    “Nah, I can just borrow some of Rose’s ambrosia,” you explain. “See, back on the meteor when I started dating Karkat he was still an angry little fucker and he’d claw shit up, which is great but kinda stung. So I knew Rose was alchemizing alcohol (til Vris shut her down) and junk and was sort of a wiz at it. Thought I’d ask her if she could concoct something that could help relieve the pain without taking the sting away completely cause let’s be real I fucking live for that. And you know what she does? She just fucking pulls a vial right out of her pocket. Then and there. Already had it made. Rose is into some kinky stuff, momma, I’m telling yo-.”  
    You stop dead in your tracks, bright red. You should feel embarrassed because you confessed to liking pain in a sexual way. You should feel embarrassed because you’re talking about Rose while she’s not there and it’s pretty dang rude of you to do. But no. You feel embarrassed because you just called Jane ‘momma’. And yeah, she fucking noticed and looks delighted.  
    “It appears I’ve been promoted,” she says. “I’m honored.”  
    “... I’m sure Rose can make more ambrosia, or just has some lying around,” you mumble.  
    “Well, that certainly does lift a tremendous weight off my shoulders if what you say is true. I did not for a moment think this would go over quite so smoothly. But I’d be remiss to look a gift horse in the mouth.”  
    “Unless you wanted to cut out its tongue,” you say.  
    “Doth my ears deceive me or am I getting flak from you, Dave Strider?”  
    “Sorry, momma.”  
    “That one was intentional.”  
    “...Yeah.”  
    Jane smiles and returns to her steak. You dig into the lobster she broke open for you. It tastes really fucking good. You have a sip of wine with it. Yeah, even that tastes a little better now. Guess it does suit the lobster. Or maybe things just taste good because you feel better. That’s probably a thing that happens.  
    “We’ll have to go over some specifics, set some boundaries, and then write a few papers,” Jane says. “A disclosure agreement, for example. But those can wait. At your earliest convenience, please visit Miss Lalonde and acquire this ambrosia. Get more than you think you’ll need. I want to try it briefly for myself, verify its effects. Not that I distrust your word, of course. I merely want a better understanding of its potency.”  
    “Cool,” you say, eating your lobster. “I’ll get the good stuff just in case.”  
    “... Are you telling me that the ambrosia has varying degrees of efficacy?”  
    “Yeah.”  
    “...And that when told someone was interested in essentially vivisecting you, you thought, ‘Oh, the weaker supply ought to do’. Is that what I’m hearing, Dave?”  
    “...yeah.”  
    Jane sighs. She puts her silverware down. She pushes her chair back and stands up. Crosses the table. Sits on the edge right next to your lobster. Puts a hand on your shoulder. Presses you into your seat and leans into you, staring you in the face.  
    “Understand, Dave Strider,” she says, “that while I am getting a taste for the cut of your jib, I will very much be getting a taste for the cut of your rib as well. When I indicate that I’d lacerate your kidney I am not kidding, not jesting when I suggest my quest to inject your breast. It should not be easy for you to stomach the fact that I am going to cut into your stomach. Do not mistake me for a long-nailed teenager with anger issues, Dave, I will make a hearty meal of your heart do you understand?”  
    “god that sounds really fucking hot when you say it like that,” you say under your breath.  
    “Baffling, bewildering!” Jane breaks away from you, turning back to her seat with a huff. “This is Strider irony, isn’t it? You haven’t taken me serious for a moment. Tell me, the story Jade shared in her drunken stupor, it was all a lie wasn’t it? A figment of her imagination, a dream perhaps, made to sound real from her inebriated state! And you, you took advantage of the utter fool I was being and used the opportunity to pull a fast one! A trick on the queen prankster herself! I should have seen it a mile away, how degrading!”  
She’s in her seat again and cutting angrily into her steak. You put your own utensils down. Which were your hands. You were eating lobster with your hands, so you put the lobster down and then your hands down. You tilt your sunglasses up and rest them in your hair.  
    “My brother was a dick,” you say. Jane looks up confused. “I grew up with swords in the fridge and ambushes around every corner. I was beat up a lot. And that’s not good. But for me it was just… normal. It was how life was. I was bloodied, bruised. Scarred. Going god tier cleared the marks away. The physical ones.  
    “Life on the meteor and then life here… it is good. It’s right. It’s the way things are supposed to be,” you say. “But it doesn’t feel right. It feels wrong. I shouldn’t want to be hurt but… I do. The scars were a part of me. I want to feel them again. And Jade and Karkat… they’re amazing, I love them so much. But they’d never wanna hurt me. I don’t even wanna mention it to them. When I get close I can see the pity in their eyes and I…”  
    And you’re crying. To someone you’ve talked to maybe twice in your life before today. You go back to eating your lobster even while tears are coming down. It’s really fucking good lobster.  
    “Are you allergic to any food stuffs?” Jane asks.  
    “Uh… no?”  
    “Good to know,” she says, eating calmly. “Then there really are no limits to the recipe I need to invent. I’ll start with one already proven a success, but obviously it will have to be for another sort of meat. Instructions for cooking a deity aren’t exactly easy to find, you know.”  
    You smile, just a little. “Really? Coulda sworn I saw godhead flambé on the menu here.”  
    “Is that so?” Jane smiles much more openly than you do. “I’ll have to have words with the owner of this establishment. Oh wait… that’s me.”  
    She chortles and it’s lighthearted while also being as intimidating and powerful as fuck. You take another bite of lobster.  
    That’s some good shit.


	2. Let's Talk Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave talks to Rose about getting some arousing pain killer stuffs before meeting up for the eating up.  
> Honestly, kinda sadstuck, I guess?

    “Kanaya said I could find you out here. Don’t tell me you’re gonna be a hermit like John.”  
    You are in the forests high in the mountains of the troll kingdom. Wild lusii roam the treetops that cast the ground below in deep shadow. The sun is still an hour away from setting, not that you can tell from how dark it is in here.  
    “Not exactly,” Rose says. “I suppose you could say that. I’d rather be called a witch, though.”  
    “Well, it’s witchy enough here alright,” you say, scoping out the darkness for little details like mushrooms and fireflies.  
    “The difference between myself and John,” she continues, “is that I will be expecting guests regularly. Alchemizing things for them. Like I assume I’m going to for you? That is why you came, is it not?”  
    “Yeah, it is. I need some of that sweet ambrosia. And by some I mean a lot and by sweet I mean strong as fuck.”  
    Rose looks you up and down as you rock back and forth with your hands in your pockets. She takes a quick whiff from a distance.  
    “You smell like lobster,” she says, simply.  
    “Yup.”  
    “...”  
    “...”  
    “You know I don’t call it ambrosia, Dave,” she says, thankfully dropping the topic for the moment. You think. “It’s an analgesic and an aphrodisiac, and you know what that makes it, Dave?”  
    “Really fucking good?”  
    “It makes it a drug.” Rose bends down into a squat in order to examine some smooth stones in the dirt. She rubs a few of them and looks at them closely while she speaks. “You are asking me to mass produce a very potent drug. I’m going to need to know why.”  
    “That’s… gonna be a really awkward conversation,” you tell her.  
    “Which is something we’ve never had before,” she retorts. “I can start making guesses if you’re hesitant to say it yourself?”  
    “Oh yeah, sure, that sounds like it’ll be a lot better,” you say, crossing your arms.  
    “Then by all means, go ahead.”  
    You can barely make out the sly grin she’s wearing. She stays low to the ground, focused on her pebbles. You bounce from foot to foot, not sure where to start or what to say. You’re first instinct, being the tactful person you are, is to blurt out everything at once and overwhelm her by saying way more than you actually need to but you really don’t wan-  
    “We’ll start with the obvious,” Rose interrupts your train of thought. “It doesn’t involve Jade or Karkat, as nowadays they are both loathe to lay a scratch on you. So the sexual partner is outside of your normal circle. Yes?”  
    “... yeah.”  
    “You went out to eat with them,” she continues. “Based on that delicious aroma, I’d say you went some place very nice. It wasn’t your idea, or you’d have dressed better. More formally, I mean. Now the question is… are they someone I know or not?”  
    “Do you actually need to know who she is, isn’t what she’s gonna do good enough?”  
    “Ah, so it’s Jane,” Rose says.  
    “How the fuck-”  
    “You narrowed it down to a woman, and being defensive implied it was someone I do in fact know,” she explains. “As it’s not me or Jade, and I highly doubt it was Kanaya, it was between Jane and Roxy. I took a shot on the more likely candidate and you confirmed my guess.”  
    She stands up with a few tiny stones in her hand and takes a few steps closer to you. You’re pouting and avoiding her gaze.  
    “I don’t know why Jane sought you ought for sexual favors, and I don’t need to know,” she says. “There, I took the hard part out for you. Getting started’s always tough, right? Now you can just take a sentence or two to say what you’re up to. Better, right?”  
    You sigh and turn to her. “Jane wants to cook me up, cut me up, and eat me up.” It sounds really fucking stupid when you say it like that and you know it. Rose doesn’t react for a few seconds. Then she inhales. Slowly tilts her head down into the palm of her free hand and rubs her forehead.  
    “And you said yes,” she says without looking up.  
    “Fuck yeah,” you reply.  
    “With enthusiasm, no less. Great.”  
    Rose looks back up and takes your hand. She sits down on the forest floor, tugging you down with her.  
    “We’ve talked about this before, Dave. I thought you were doing better.”  
    “I didn’t come here for a therapy session, Rose. I just wanna do some kinky shit, is that so wrong?”  
    “Kind of, yes,” she squeezes your hand. “When I started drinking, I thought it would bring me closer to my mother. And I was wrong. I was hurting myself for nothing, Dave. I’m glad I had Vriska to stop me. Now someone needs to be here to stop you. This won’t bring you closer to Bro. You know that, right?”  
    “I know that, geesh,” you say. You want to pull your hand away but you won’t get the ambrosia if you do. “Look, I’m not hurting myself. Or it won’t hurt if you make the good stuff. It’s not the same as drinking booze.”  
    “You’re right, it’s worse,” Rose says. “It’s much more addictive. Not to mention you are using it to enable yourself to go through a form of torture that you’ve volunteered for. We have eternity laid out before us, and I won’t spend it watching you spiral.”  
    “Oh, but Jade will? And Karkat? Heck, even Jane?” you ask. “Plenty of people care about me and I care about them. I’m not gonna let shit go south, Rose. There’s too much I have to lose. If you don’t trust me, trust in them. Jane’s not a bad person, she’ll do me right. Fuck. Do right by me? That’s the phrase, right?”  
    “I think you had it the first time,” Rose says with a grin.  
    “Look, I know what I’m suggesting is crazy, but I’m not a total idiot,” you say. “If it hurts too much and I don’t like it, I’m outta there. Game over, show’s cancelled. And the same goes for Jane. We can be each other’s checks and balances. Hell, you’re worried about me for wanting to get cut up a little. What about her? Cannibalism is just as fucked up but who’s there to be her therapist? Maybe… maybe it can be me. Maybe me and her can take these weird, fucked up problems we have and make the most of them. You said it yourself, Rose. We have literally forever, and I wanna spend that time trying new things. I’m not gonna sit back and play it safe forever, there’s gotta be some risks or it’s no fun.”  
    Rose stays quiet for awhile. She’s squeezing your hand pretty tight, looking off into the patches of sunset she can see. Her lips are drawn in a thin line and her eyes look… is she about to cr-  
    “We have forever,” she says. “But they don’t.”  
    “Who?”  
    “Kanaya,” she explains. “And Karkat.”  
    You… you don’t know what to say to that.  
    “I’ll have a chat with Jane,” she continues, “and if it goes well I’ll start making some ‘ambrosia’. I’ll also try to come up with a better name, in case this becomes a regular thing. But I do have one condition, Dave. Well, two. Because of course, I want you to promise me you’ll stay safe, or try to, anyway. But the other one is…”  
    Rose finally turns to look you right in the eye and yeah, she’s crying. And you feel like you’re about to cry, too, and you honestly don’t even know why. Guess it’s just… infectious.  
    “Try new things all you want,” Rose says. “But let Karkat try them, too. Treasure him while you still can.”  
    “...Yeah, of course. You know, we actually did some crazy stuff just last week and it was pretty fucking great. No ambrosia needed.”  
    “That’s good to hear,” she says, smiling. She lets go of your hand and gets to her feet. She wipes dirt from her dress and turns away.  
    “Are… things okay with you and Kanaya?” you ask, tentatively.  
    “Yes,” she says, with her back still facing you. “I’m just… a seer, Dave. I can’t help living in the future.”


	3. Let's Talk Carrot and Stick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave's leg gets cooked and pieces are cut + eaten. As far as hard vore is concerned, it's still fairly tame, especially thanks to godtier immortality and the marinade of life.

    “So, this is where the magic happens?”  
    “If cooking and alchemizing are considered to be forms of magic, then yes. Yes it is.”  
    You have shown up at the house of one Jane Crocker, ready for your dinner date. Mostly ready, anyways. It’d be really weird if you weren’t at least a little nervous.  
    You’re pretty sure this isn’t Jane’s old house from when she lived with her dad. It’s like Victorian or Gothic or something. You don’t know stuff about architecture, okay? The roof is sloped and pointy, there’s ornate framing shit around the porch, and the windows are really big. Luckily, said windows also have really big, really thick curtains. You commented on them when you came in, and Jane said she usually has a set that’s a little lacier up but traded them out for today to ensure privacy. She then brought you into the kitchen and gave you some lemonade and you said this is where the magic happens and there you are, full circle, woohoo!  
    Looks like today you overdressed. You have a really nice button-down Karkat bought you awhile back, and one of your favorite pair of booty shorts. Clearly, shit doesn’t get any fancier than that. Jane’s got some khakis and a shirt you don’t get to see very long before she covers it up with an apron that reads “Fuck the Cook”.  
    “If I’d known you were gonna wear that, I definitely would have worn the shorts that say “juicy” on the back.”  
    “Next time, perhaps,” Jane says. “Not that it matters much. You’ll have to disrobe anyhow.”  
    “Even the shirt? I like this shirt.”  
    “Well, we are testing waters today,” she considers. “I suppose you don’t have to take off everything. However, things may get messy. So if you truly do admire any particular article of clothing, it’d be wise to remove it.”  
    You hop onto a bare counter and kick your feet idly. “Nah, you’ll just have to be careful. You get my shirt dirty and I aint coming back for dessert. Got it?”  
    “Is that any way to speak to your _mommy_?” Jane says with a chuckle.  
    “I dunno, am I gonna get spanked for it?”  
    “Taking into consideration the fact that you would absolutely _love_ that, I know better than to hold it over you as punishment,” Jane says, organizing a few ingredients and pulling things out of the fridge. “If the horse likes getting beaten, than the carrot and the stick serve much the same purpose. The only punishment, then, is to give him neither.”  
    “Aw, that’s no fun,” you say. You lean back and spread your legs a bit to get comfy.  
    “Then you’ll just have to behave, won’t you?”  
    “Hmmm… doesn’t sound like me, momma.”  
    Jane’s stirring some sauce in a bowl that she’s already prepared. She takes the wooden spoon out and holds it to your lips. She does this wordlessly, and despite her talking about all this discipline jazz her expression is kind and a little anxious. You mouth the whole spoon, swallow the sauce, and let go with a ‘pop’.  
    “Oh boy that’s got a tang to it,” you say. “What is that, a spicy orange?”  
    “Lemons and peppers mostly,” she answers.  
    “It’s freaking strong. This sauce bounced up to the carnival test o’ strength contest and just whammed its hammer down on my taste buds. Ding ding ding, the bell has been struck, the prize is won.”  
    “Is that… a good thing or a bad thing?” Jane asks.  
    “It’s really fucking good,” you reassure her.  
    “Are you absolutely sure?” she persists. “Do not be gentle with me for the sake of courtesy, Dave. When you heal, the cuts and burns will fade. But the smell and taste of this sauce may remain. I honestly do not know how long it may linger, or to what degree. It will be soaking into your skin, Dave, so if you have any critique this is the time to voice it.”  
    You lean over and kiss her on the lips. You coax her, give her a mouthful, wanting to taste her and share your taste with her.  
    “It’s really fucking good,” you repeat as you pull away.  
    “Well… hard to argue with that!” she says with a smile. “Right-o, then. Perhaps you would be so kind as to undress, then? Everything you feel comfortable with removing, though I stand my ground that stains might abound and therefore all precautions should be taken.”  
    “Pretty sure that’s your job,” you say. “Chef’s gotta do the prep work, not the chicken.”  
    “I’m basing today’s sauce on a duck recipe, actually.”  
    “Same diff. Donald Duck aint taking off his own shirt, momma.”  
    “Hmph, what a lazy meal you are,” Jane says, squatting down. She takes off your shoes and socks and it’s not as sexy as you pictured but it’s still good being up here and watching her do it.  
    “Off the counter,” she commands when she’s standing straight again.  
    “Does the duck just-”  
    “Oh honestly you are being ridiculous,” she says, rolling her eyes. You were gonna hop off at the end of your argument, but she doesn’t give you time. She stands between your spread legs, puts one hand on your lower back and the other under your knee, then hoists you off the counter. You’re in the air only a moment before getting to a standing position next to her. You’re a bit dumbstruck, probably red in the face, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She just gets to work putting some nice, disposable sheets right where you were sitting, as well as a towel further away. Between the two is a closed grill that you honestly didn’t even notice before. She opens it, and the bars that you’re pretty sure a grill usually has in order to keep food up are gone. You can just see the little fire-pit thing inside. Jane notices your confusion and explains that there’s no need for them, as they’d just sting you even more and leave unnecessary charred lines.  
    “With your torso on one side and your feet on the other, you are more than capable of keeping your legs over the fire,” she says. “You might have to strain a little, but I promise you it is worth it to avoid that singular pain.”  
    “Speaking of pain…” you say, looking over to a bag you left by the door. “I brought the ambrosia. You said you wanted to test it out, right?”  
    “Oh, I already did and I have more than enough,” Jane says. “It’s already within the sauce, as well as some of my own life-restoring elixir. I sampled the mixture of Rose’s concoction with my own elixir and flavors on myself to assure it would be both arousing and regenerative. I was quite successful, if I do say so myself.”  
    “... So you talked to Rose, then?” you ask.  
    “But of course,” Jane says, not noticing your hesitation. “She contacted me what must have been only shortly after your own visit with her. We had a short chat and then a business transaction.”  
    “Is that why you’re being so…” you trail off and she looks at you, concerned and maybe a little peeved.  
    “So _what_ , exactly?”  
    “I dunno, I just imagined you being a little more dominatrix-y with all this I guess.”  
    “Dave Strider, you have told me you won’t behave, which you have proven by refusing to disrobe yourself or even dislodge yourself from my countertop,” Jane says, clearly annoyed. “Consent and communication are thoroughly important, as I have already stressed to you prior to my conversation with Rose. This activity is one I would greatly like to undertake, but I am rather insecure about it and have been so from the start, for good reason I might add, as it is a highly irregular and dangerous endeavor. Your sass is a welcome ingredient to the mix, as it suggests you are comfortable with the goings-on in this kitchen and thereby helps to relieve the weight on my shoulders. However it adds the dissimilar quality of removing genuine feelings from your vocabulary, causing me to question the amount of honesty you are willing to provide. Understand that if you are feeling at all tense in this situation, that pressure lies with me as well, and it is inhibiting me from displaying this boldness you apparently crave.”  
    You’re silent for a good few seconds. Jane breathes heavily from her rant and looks you in the eye, waiting for a response.  
    “I only understood like half of that,” you tell her honestly.  
    “I am uncomfortable,” she says slowly, “because I am afraid of what _could_ happen. And because we, quite frankly, do not know each other all that well. Give me time. Rome was not built in a day.”  
    “Okay. I just wanted to make sure Rose didn’t make things weird for you.”  
    “Oh she very much did that,” Jane says with a laugh. “Nothing I can’t handle though.”  
    You smile and nod. “So, I’m guessing it’s time I got my thighs up on that grill, huh?”  
    “Heaven forbid you do it yourself though,” Jane says with a small smirk and quick eye roll. Before you can argue, she’s grabbed you again and puts you on the counter. She turns you sideways, laying you on your back. As she’s positioning your legs over the grill, she slides your shorts and underwear off. You rest your feet on the towel at the end and Jane turns the grill on to let it start heating up.  
    “If you have any protests or concerns, please do voice them as soon as they pop into your head,” Jane says, setting up a tray table next to your legs for the bowl of sauce that she’s stirring once again.  
    “Okay momma, protest or concern #1: Are the burns gonna stay or will those heal?”  
    “I promise you they will heal up completely. Here, tell me what you see.” She holds her left arm over your face and twists it around so you can see every angle.  
    “Just a really sweet piece of meat, momma.”  
    “I did quite a number on myself,” Jane says, cheeks a little red, “to ensure the highest quality life-restoration I could muster. But none would be the wiser for it now, as there aren’t even tell-tale signs of injury.”  
    “That’s almost a goddamn shame,” you tell her.  
    “Well perhaps if you are very good,” she says, rolling up your sleeves and unbottoning the top few buttons of your shirt, “I’ll give you a special mark once everything’s said and done. What do you say?”  
    “A mark as in a hickey or a mark as in ‘let me get the cattle prod’?”  
    “Do you really want me to ruin the surprise?” Jane asks, turning back to her bowl of sauce. You can feel the first small embers licking at your legs.  
    “Okay now I don’t but also I’m gonna be really disappointed if it’s just a hickey,” you tell her honestly. “Consider that concern #2.”  
    “Consider it considered.” She gives you another spoonful of magic juice. From a drawer right under you, she pulls out a thick brush and uses it to start applying this stuff to your legs. Saying it tickles would be the understatement of the year. The bristles on the brush are thick but super soft and they sweep over you like a whisper. The ambrosia in the sauce is instantly recognizable as every surface it touches becomes as sensitive as the tip of your dick. The hairs on your leg stand up like each one of ‘em is getting erect. The coating of sauce cools and soothes you, negating the rising heat of the flame below you. Jane moves in long strides, dragging that good stuff all the way from your ankle to your upper thigh, just shy of your crotch. She alternates from leg to leg, and coats you meticulously.  
    As you feel the underside of your legs getting bronzer, she tells you to turn over. It’s not as easy as she makes it sound since there’s not a whole ton of room, but you manage. It’s kinda more comfy like this anyways, lying on your stomach. She repeats the same strokes as before on the back of your legs. Only now, you can really feel the flames lick at the ambrosia-filled coating on your shins. It boils, sauce and heat being absorbed into your skin. You can feel it penetrating you down to the bone. You grit your teeth, grunting lowly, breathing loudly through your nose.  
    “How is it, little duck?” Jane asks. With her free hand she pats your butt idly, copping a feel from time to time and enjoying the plushness of your rump.  
    “mmm...good…” you manage through the murmurs.  
    “Exquisite,” she says. “Stay vocal, little duck. I do require feedback here. After all, we are only just beginning.”  
    At her command, you turn over again. Yeah, this is definitely a little less comfortable. You ask for a towel to rest under your neck and she happily obliges. When she seems satisfied with the coat on your legs, she tells you it’s a bit of a waiting game now. Just passing time until you’re evenly cooked. She stands at your midsection, watching your legs darken. She rests her head on one hand and moves the other to your waist. Her middle finger scoops up a drop of juice and desposits it right above your dick. Still watching you cook, barely paying attention to what her hand is doing, Jane’s finger teases you by drawing tiny circles in your sensitive skin. Meanwhile, you can feel the flesh lower down getting warmer, drier, softer. Your little noises of pleasure get louder. She barely brushes the tip of your dick and-  
    “Oop, time to flip again,” she says, sounding smug and fucking enthralled. You pout, but obey. She leans her elbow into your lower back, pressing her chest into you and still watching the grill. You feel her sprinkle a few dry herbs onto you. Then, she palms your ass nonchalatantly once again, giving it an occassional spank to hear you moan.  
    “You _have_ been a good boy so far, haven’t you, little duck?” she comments.  
    “...yes…”  
    “So I suppose you can have a little treat…” she says quietly. You can’t see her anymore at this angle, your head looking down and away and her back to her too. But you feel two fingers take another scoop of sauce from your upper leg and carry it to your taint. She sweeps it up between your cheeks and presses both fingers into you simultaneously. You try to stifle your noises but she jabs her elbow in when you do and says ‘enough of that’. You grunt and bite your lip, challenging her to jab you again, harder.  
    “Carrot and the stick…” she says, privvy to your antics. She gets off of you and starts pulling her fingers out.  
    “Aw come on momma, don't be like that. I’ll be good, promise.” you want to rock your ass into her but you can’t really move that way with your knees over an open fire. You manage little more than humping helplessly on the counter. But as her fingers stay in, you open your mouth and let your moans and murmurs and momma praises flow out. As a reward, she slips a third finger in and pumps you. Unfortunately, it isn’t very long before she stops and pulls them out anyway in order to turn off the grill.  
    “Mother likes it a little rare,” she says, flipping you over one more time. “Can’t have my meat getting all charred up now, can I?”  
    From somewhere below, she pulls out a tray that fits the grill, finally allowing you to drop your legs down without straining. You were barely managing by the end there, your legs practically dead to you by that point, but with Jane’s fingers in your ass you hardly noticed. But man it’s a fucking relief now.  
    “Do get comfortable,” Jane says, “but I wouldn’t relax just yet. We’re not done, you know.”  
    “Mmm… yeah… I know…” You can tell you look and sound weak so you try to cover it up with a smile. She pets your hair and plants a kiss on your forehead. She turns and goes to the other side of the kitchen to grab a stool and carries it over. Sitting by your legs, apron on and utensils ready, she eyes you hesitantly.  
    “No turning back now,” you tell her.  
    “Of course there is,” she responds. “All you need to do is say so.”  
    “I didn’t mean that like ‘ well we have no other option’, I meant it as in ‘don’t you fucking turn back now momma’.”  
    Jane’s appreciative smile is A+ and you love when she shares it with you because man does it fucking brighten the room up something fierce. She pulls out a vial that looks vaguely like Rose’s ambrosia but must have her life juice mixed in, too, and slathers some on your legs for good measure. You know it’s already pretty thoroughly soaked into you thanks to the sauce, but it’s cool. She’s just being cautious and you get it.  
    “Where to begin…” she wonders aloud.  
    “If you’re a ‘save the best’ kinda gal, I’d say start from the bottom up,” you suggest. “Thighs’ gotta have the best stuff. Also I can barely feel my feet because of the grill and I’m betting that if you cut up a lot of my upper leg first I’ll be really numb to anything south of it.”  
    “That very well may be for the best,” Jane comments, her smile beginning to fade.  
    “I am begging you to stop that shit and just bite me already,” you say. “Concern #3: I was promised eating would be a thing that would happen and so far I am noticing a distinct lack of that being a thing.”  
    Jane puts a hand to her mouth to surpress a chuckle, then returns her attention to your legs.  
    “You know, there is absolutely no way I can stomach both of your entire legs,” she mentions. “Is it quite alright with you if I merely dig into the thighs? I’ve been told that’s the best part.”  
    “Bone ape tit, momma,” sitting up a little to rest on your elbows.  
    “Bone ape tit indeed,” she mocks. Gingerly, she holds the knife and fork over the thigh closest to her. At about it’s center, she pushes the fork down, barely making contact. Watching, you can see the indents of tong on flesh, but through the grilled meat you can’t feel it. That persists as the knife first lands. The sharp point nests in your leg. Jane draws a line down, barely scraping you at all. The knife is drawn away, then comes back from the side to shave off a thin slab like your thigh was on the edge of a meat slicer. The exposed flesh is golden brown. You don’t feel pain, don’t feel blood rushing. It’s… really underwhelming.  
    Jane holds the fork up to her mouth, takes some tentative licks, and then a bite.  
    “Mmm.. tender,” she says after swallowing. “However, I really ought to have left you on a little longer. You aren’t undercooked along the edge, little duck, but I’m certain that’ll change as we penetrate further in.”  
    “Only one way to find out,” you encourage her.  
    “Technically that isn’t true, but I get your gist.” The utensils return to the exposed area. You can just barely feel the tip of the fork, but the knife definitely registers. Jane sinks it in more than before and you instinctively hold your breath. When the knife begins its descent a line of blood follows it and you close your eyes. You feel the blood rushing. You feel the knife carve you, the sting sweetened by ambrosia. When she pulls out, you catch your breath and open your eyes, looking up at the ceiling. You pant once or twice before closing your mouth again. Jane cups your chin, squeezing your mouth open and turning you to face her.  
    “Please do stop trying to silence yourself,” she says. “The sounds you produce provide the perfect ambiance.”  
    “I… I wasn’t _trying_ to, momma” you tell her.  
    “I’ll believe you, duck.” She lets go of your chin and picks her knife back up. She makes a second line near the last one, but this time you watch and pant. You catch yourself almost biting your lip. You don’t though, you want to be good for momma. Jane makes two more cuts and slides her fork into a divot. As she tears a piece out you cry out, a noise that vibrates from above your quivering chin, teeth rattling like a guy in a blizzard. Blood is drawn to the gap, but doesn't spray or flow out. Jane makes eye contact with you as her lips surround the fresh meat and suck it in.  
    “Th-that can’t be sanitary,” you mumble. “You’re gonna get… fucking salmonella or something.”  
    “And which kind of death would that be, just or heroic?”  
    “Definitely heroic,” you answer instantly. “Risked your life for me, what a pal. Taking one for the team, mom-MA”  
    Jane cuts into you again, taking a piece right by her last one.  
    “Your moans are lovely through and through, but there’s nothing quite as delightful as getting you to cry midsentence,” she admits with a smirk.  
    “And here I thOUGW oh hellohhhhhhh” The delicious pain of another unexpected cut makes your arms give out. Your back drops down on the counter, your head hitting the towel. Jane urgently asks if you’re okay and you confirm that you are more than okay and also that she should not stop. She lifts your hand, gives it a kiss, then sets it back down and tells you to stay comfy. You nod and slip your hands under your head to better support yourself. Satisfied, she resumes the meal. It isn’t long before the cuts get deeper, your nerve endings exploding with the steel sensation. Your moans are quick and pained, your fists clench the hair on the back of your neck. You want to keep your eyes open, but you can’t. They squeeze shut as you cry out for your momma.  
    “You need to keep up your strength, Dave,” you hear her say. “Please, eat some of this.” Something prods you in the lips and you obediently take a bite. Almost instantly, you stop. Open your eyes. And look at Jane Crocker. Who is still holding her fork over you. Mouth in a tight line. Tears coming to her eyes because of how much she is trying not to laugh.  
    “I honest to goodness thought you’d _at least_ open your eyes first,” she says. She extends a hand. “Feel free to spit it out.”  
    You chew. And it’s bloody. And there’s a hint of the lemon zest stuff. And it’s thick and it’s wet and it’s _you_. And you swallow.  
    “That’s the kinda thing… you ask about first,” you say.  
    “Yes. Of course. I am very sorry, Dave.”  
    “S’cool.”  
    Jane stands idly, utensils in hand but not really doing anything with them. She’s watching you, hesitant to get back to it.  
    “Undercooked,” you say.  
    “Beg pardon?”  
    “You were right, that shit is way underdone,” you explain. “I’m guessing the duck recipe said the heat was supposed to be higher or like the duck should be on the grill way longer, right?"  
    “Well, technically, you’re supposed to go in the oven, not over a grill, so compensating for that would take a fair amount of guess work. In true foul fashion, I sorta _winged_ it.”  
    “Puns make the meat go bad,” you tell her. “So does not eating it while it’s fresh. But that’s your thing, not mine, cool?”  
    “Of course,” Jane nods and goes back to your leg. “I got carried away.”  
    “That’s something I’m gonna have to have done to me because I can’t imagine I’ll be walking anywhere any time soon,” you say. “Question time momma: When’s that regen stuff supposed to start happening?”  
    “Oh, didn’t I mention?” Jane turns to face you and there’s a tiny hint of a grin that’s trying to hide but you’ve seen it on John a long time ago and you know that means she’s about to lay the prankster card again but this time you’re fucking ready for it.  
    “It won’t regenerate on its own,” Jane says. “The healing mixture has only soaked into the meat I’m eating, after all. That same meat will have to be reapplied to the exposed areas.”  
    “Are you saying you’re going to throw up on my legs?” you ask.  
    “Heavens no, how appalling, I would never!” Jane smothers her grin with a forkful of Strider thigh. “You’ll have to wait until it comes out as waste.”  
    “You’re going to shit on my bones.”  
    “That is a gross oversimplification and I mean gross is every sense of the word,” Jane says.  
    “Nah, that is far from gross,” you say. You’re ready now. “God I am so fucking relieved. This day just got so much better. I wanna watch you squat over my legs and shit right in there. You better rub that in good yourself and lick your fingers clean, momma.”  
    “Dave-”  
    “You came clean about having the vore thing so I guess I shoulda been honest from the start too.” There’s no stopping you now. “I’m about neck deep in the middle of a scat fetish but aint noone around who’s got that much shit to throw. But finally, someone I can be completely open with, who won’t call me out or say I’m ‘sick and perverted’ just because my body wash of choice is ‘diarrhea’.”  
    “Dave-”  
    “Vanilla sex lives are the bane to my existence, the constipation of mYAIIEE”  
    “DAVE.”  
    Okay, there are ways of stopping you and one of them is jabbing a knife into your leg very abruptly.  
    “It will take about three hours before you start seeing significant limb regrowth,” Jane informs you. “Until then, you’ll just have to rest up. I have a wheelchair prepared, though I wasn’t sure which body part or parts we’d actually be cooking today until you made a fuss about your shirt.”  
    “... I was on a roll.”  
    “No, you’re on a tray. You took my little goof and were beating it into the ground like a dead horse,” she says.  
    “Is that the same horse that isn’t getting sticks or carrots?”  
    “It’s a dead horse, Dave, it shouldn’t be getting anything but a ceremony. And no, please do not take that as an invitation to start a eulogy.”  
    “Hey, do you want me to make noises or not?”  
    “If you kept on with those particular noises, I’d vomit on your legs for real.” Before you can make a snappy come back, she returns to her cuts. She’s deeper in and the sting is more severe. You grunt, and this time around your eyes are open. You can see the pieces she’s bringing up to her mouth and god they are way too red, she definitely needed to cook you longer. But she mouths them anyway, those well rounded lips curving around like she’s sucking the best dick she’s ever had. That satisfied hum at each bite, the little bit of blush in her cheeks. How can anyone look so goddamn cute while literally carving you up and eating you is the biggest fucking mystery in the entire universe. Her eyebrows perk up as she catches you watching her. You lick your lips instinctively.  
    “And here I thought you weren’t interested in partaking in the meal,” Jane says.  
    “That aint what I’m eyeing, momma.”  
    She smiles and indulges you with a kiss. You cling to her shoulder to make her stay. You draw out the kiss, wanting as much of those lips as you can get. Tongues meeting, you taste your blood and spicy lemon sauce but at least underneath there’s still her. She pulls away for air.  
    “Well, you are a hungry boy, aren’t you?” She’s nearly panting. You mighta been a little more desperate in that make out than you thought. But she certainly doesn’t seem to mind. Her hair’s a little frayed. You honestly don’t even remember running a hand through it but oh wait yes you did. Shit, it’s almost like a ton of painkillers being all in your body would eventually, I dunno, have repurcisions. Repahcushions. Reaper-cousins. Yeah, that’s the one. Cousins of the grim reaper.  
    “Yeah… hungry…” is all you fucking manage.  
    “Then here, suckle on these for a hot minute, would you?” She puts two fingers to your lips, which you obediently kiss and suck on. They’re only on your tongue for a few seconds before she takes them out like way too fucking early. But they’re in you again real soon, just not your mouth. Jane stands at the counter’s edge and angles you to face her better (your head hits the wall when she turns you but you can hardly fucking feel it right now). She’s between your legs and leaves the less eaten one on the counter. The other she hoists over her shoulder and you can see the big gap in it. It’s not anywhere near as deep as you thought it was. And it’s bright red and wet but somewhere between being marinated in magic juice and cooked over a fire leaves you smack dab in the middle of ‘blood doesn’t go shooting everywhere’ town, which is a very good thing and oh hey there’s Jane sticking fingers in your ass again. Her right hand’s doing that while her left is holding up that morsel of a leg and keeping it close to her face. She kisses the skin on your shin, then licks, then bites. The soft meat is cooked and tender and tears right off in front of your eyes. You are definitely struggling to keep them open now, what with her doing this AND knocking on your back door but oh man you can’t look away. Her motions are repetitive: Kiss and  prod, fingers halfway in. Lick and pull, fingers almost out. Bite and thrust, right up to the knuckles. Again and again, eating away at you in every fucking sense of the word. And you are letting her know you enjoy it. Ever since her fingers left your mouth, your moans have been uncontrollable. You are numb to the feelings, numb to the sounds, only barely aware of the longing in your groans. Jane puts a third finger in, her hand sideways so her pinky tickles the hairs on your ass and her thumb rubs the sensitive skin leading up to your dick.  
    “What a woman,” you barely murmur right before you reach your limit. There’s a jolt of pleasure rocking your hips and then *blip* you are fucking out of it.

  
    You wake up in the most comfortable recliner you have every been in in your entire life. What the hell is this chair made out of, puppy fur? Hello, yes, Cruella De Vil? It’s me, Dave Strider. Just wanted to thank you for completing my custom chair order, I know 101 puppies sounded like a lot but it really fucking paid off.  
    “You enjoy your beauty sleep, little duck?” Jane says. You blink and take a better look at where you are. It’s a bedroom, but kinda bare, so probably a guest one and not actually ‘the master bedroom’ or whatever. Lots of very comfy looking blankets though. Some charming old timey paintings on the wall with the round frame that look like rope borders. It’s like she’s trying to run a bed and breakfast only she’s the one getting breakfast and the breakfast is you. Jane herself is sitting on the bed next to a first aid kit and a little wet towel and a few other things like that. That makes you look at your leg. It’s almost fully healed but not all the way yet. You move it a little to see if it’s numb and yeah it’s pretty numb and pretty not-wanting-to-move.  
    “Don’t do that, just rest, okay?” Jane looks really damn relieved.  
    “Sorry, I probably shoulda warned you that passing out from really good sex is a thing I have done once or twice or maybe like six times,” you inform her.  
    “But who’s keeping count, right?” she says with a little smirk.  
    “Jade, Jade is keeping count,” you tell her. “Karkat kinda does too, but math and science are more of a Jade thing and that is either one or both of those.”  
    Jane laughs and it’s hearty and satisfied and you can’t help but smile.  
    “I’m just glad you’re okay,” she says. “You are okay, right?”  
    “I’ll be better when I can walk but yeah I’m good.”  
    “Oh, you wanted to be able to walk again…. Yikes…” and there’s that little mischievous glint in her eye, same as Egbert.  
    “Did you paralyze me so you could keep me forever as your sexy slave slash infinite food source?”  
    “No, but I may have put a Polly Pocket in your wound to see how the leg would heal around it,” she says. “I’m afraid the damage is irreparable.”  
    “Are we talking early 90s ‘so small you can basically shove her under your fingernail’ Polly Pocket or mid to late 2000s ‘even Dave Strider would have a hard time fitting this in his mouth’ Polly Pocket?”  
    “Turn of the century ‘small enough to eat but big enough to have two distinct legs’ Polly Pocket, I’m afraid,” Jane tells you.  
    “Any Polly Pocket is small enough to eat if you put your mind to it,” you say. “Heck, apparently I’m small enough to eat.”  
    “That you are.”  
    “And how was I?” you ask.  
    “Delicious,” Jane says without hesitation.  
    “Nah, sorry, I meant behavior-wise. I was promised a mark for good behavior and I spent my entire beauty nap hoping it’s more than a hickey.”  
    “Better luck next time, Dave Strider,” Jane says. “You were a right pain for sure. Even a hickey’d be too good for you.”  
    “Aw, don’t play me like that, momma.”  
    “Hmph… very well, I’ll satisfy you.” From beyond the first aid kit and miscellaneous stuff, Jane picks up a purse and pulls out what looks like a tube of lipstick. “But only because if you know what you’re in for, you might do better next time.”  
    “Are you going to draw a dick on my face? Is that the prized mark?”  
    Jane cocks an eyebrow, casting you a knowing smile. She kneels at your feet, picking one up in her hand, weird tube thing in the other. She holds it over you ankle, about to press it in, and-  
    "No, no, I can't," Jane says, stopping. She gets comfy on the ground and holds the lipstick thing up to you. From this angle, you can see the tip. It's like a stamp with her life aspect symbol on it (reversed, so it can stamp). It's bright cyan. Like, violently cyan. Like, it's red hot but actually blue hot and you're pretty sure blue fire is even hotter than red fire, right?  
    "I wanted to surprise you, but I absolutely must have consent first," Jane says. "This will leave a burn on you that I could technically erase with my healing prowess. But that's not the issue, or, the entire issue. The process of scarring you so will undoubtedly be very painful, and there's no elixir to dull it this time. So if you'd rather I didn't, I would entirely understand."  
    "Holy shit it's an actual handheld personalized cattle prod," you say in disbelief. "I swear I was kidding when I said that, I did not fucking think you'd actually have one. Where did you even get that?"  
    "Dirk gave it to me as a birthday present two years ago," she says. "Haven't really used it before now. But I'm told the burn it leaves will appear white with just a hint of cyan around the edges."  
    "Heh, shoulda known it'd be him. Well, go on, mark me as your territory, momma."  
    "That's really not my intention!" Jane quickly cuts in. "I understand and respect the relationship you have with Jade and Karkat after all. No, I had something a little more... rewarding in mind."  
    "I'm already fucking sold on it, momma, how's this getting better?"  
    "It's very small, you see, the mark will barely even be noticeable," Jane says, displaying her toy up closer for you. "This is ideal for my purposes, as I had intended to, in the future, brandish this tool multiple times. Think of it like collecting gold stars on a sticker sheet, where after a select amount you may be eligible for a bonus prize."  
    "Holy fuck, I am loving this more and more. Though I'll have to see what it actually looks like when it heals over and junk before you put more 'n one, but still, I am for it. What's the bonus prize?"  
    "I haven't decided yet," Jane says, tucking a curl of hair away bashfully.   
    "That's ok, one step at a time, momma."  
    You hold your foot at the ready, eager to receive Jane's stamp of approval.  
    "One step at a time," Jane agrees. The heat radiates from the stamp in her palm and hits you in waves before it actually connects. And then there it is, slow and steady, a rising, searing burn. It's gentle, and then strong, and sharp. You pant and inhale strongly, but you keep your foot steady. The pain runs deep and you know it's only gonna hurt worse in the morning. But man. Right now, looking at Jane's beautiful face... that's ok with you.


End file.
